The Last War
by Aranel Carnilino
Summary: Non-canon. Legolas is mean, prissy, sarcastic, irrational, and not too bright. After the War of the Ring, he reunites with some of his old cronies to stop a terrible evil from encroaching on Middle-earth. This is his story – and it's quite a shocker.
1. Chapter 1: Evil Has Awakened

Non-canon. Legolas is mean, prissy, sarcastic, irrational, and not too bright. After the War of the Ring, he reunites with some of his old cronies to stop a terrible evil from encroaching on Middle-earth. This is his story – and it's quite a shocker.

**The Last War**

_Aranel; 2004, revamped 2008 _

_A/N: Bwahahahahahaha__…__ James, you're the only one who knows this story's previous incarnation (for the rest of your references, this story was previously serious). I had __so__ much fun destroying it. _

Chapter I—Evil Has Awakened

It was a horrible day in Middle-earth, one of the most horrible that Legolas had ever seen (Wow; _that_ bad). _What a pity that Gimli had to leave! _he thought sarcastically. _I should have liked it if he had stayed another month or so. Stupid, fat, greedy, loutish dwarf__…__ Good riddance!_

Legolas sighed in relief, looked up once more at the black sky, smiled, and left the balcony, heading back inside his father's palace (and maybe, just maybe, _his_ palace someday if daddy-o kicked the bucket or abdicated). As he passed through the corridors, headed for his room, the servants bowed courteously, and the soldiers saluted him. Legolas nodded in acknowledgement. It made him feel slightly better when people groveled before him (doesn't it always?).

Legolas lay down on his bed and pondered his situation. _I'm so sick of talking to myself. And I don't ever wanna see Gimli again. Hmmm__…__ who else is left besides groveling servants and boring, biased parents? Aha! Aragorn. He's not too far away and he probably needs the company. _

He thought about this much as he fell into a troubled sleep. Dreams he had – many dreams. First, he dreamed he was back with the Fellowship on their quest to destroy the Ring. Back in Lothlórien. He dreamed that _he _was Frodo and was looking in Galadriel's mirror and saw the Eye of Sauron. It glared at him menacingly and he squealed like a girl.

Next, he dreamed that Gimli was returning to Mirkwood for another six-month visit. "NOOOOOOO!!" Legolas screamed, jerking awake in a cold sweat. _Ah, just a dream._

He went back to sleep and dreamed that he was in the Council of Elrond and he stood up to say something and looked down and he was in his underpants…

Legolas awoke the next morning, yawned, stretched and opened his eyes. There was a spider hovering inches from his nose. "Ahhhhhhh!!" Legolas squealed, swiping at it like a frightened penguin. After he had recovered, he thought a minute about the previous night's dreams. "Ah, probably just too much pizza before bed," he said dismissively. He dressed casually and went down to breakfast.

At the table, he spoke to his father, Thranduil, King of Mirkwood.

"Dad," said Legolas, trying to catch Thranduil between pages of the _Mirkwood Daily_. "I need to do something. I can't sit around for the rest of my life."

Celebwen, Legolas' mom, coughed. "You're dang right! Try doing the dishes once in a while!"

"My son," said the king, ignoring the queen's snide remark, "what is it you wish to do?"

"I wanna go on a road trip, Dad. Visit some old friends. Shoot some hoops with Aragorn maybe…."

"If you wish to do this," said Thranduil, "you have my consent."

Legolas rolled his eyes. As if! Not like he needed his daddy to hold his hand! He was only two and a half thousand years old… Still, he had to indulge his dad's illusion of control.

"My thanks," he said, "and I wish to travel alone in case you were about to suggest that I take a couple battalions of ninjas with me."

"I— uh," Thranduil sighed. That had clearly been _exactly_ what he was about to suggest. "It's a dangerous world, son. We wouldn't want anything to happen to you… our son… our heir!"

Legolas gave his father a "thanks, but I don't sleep in a crib anymore" look.

"As you wish, my son," said Thranduil resignedly.

Legolas eagerly walked away from the table (more from a relief at escaping this nuthouse than joy about the impending journey). Going straight back up to his room, trying to ignore the groveling servants, he made a mental checklist. He decided not to take much, only what he needed: one change of clothes, his weapons, some food and water, and most importantly, his iPod.

He picked up his old bow; the one Galadriel had given him. He blew the dust off it and ran his fingers up and down the wood, admiring the intricate design. Yes, it had been long in disuse. Mostly because he had either been too busy ranting and raving about Gimli's obnoxiousness or playing those ridiculous _Prince of Persia_ video games…. This reminded him. _I hate that curséd Dahaka__…__ Grrrrrr__…._He put the bow in the sheath on his back, next to his familiar quiver and white knives.

Lastly, he removed the silver crown from his head and placed it lovingly on the table beside his bed. _Solid silver_, he thought. _I'd get mugged for sure__…._

He put on Stryper, tossed the iPod in his quiver, and stuck his earphones in his ears. Throwing on some traveling boots, he slid down the rope ladder from his balcony and was on his way. He preferred to leave unannounced. It avoided an otherwise certain mushy scene with his parents….

As Legolas entered the dense outer woods, he alternately hummed and sang along with the music. He even tried to scream the high notes along with Michael Sweet – let's just say it's a good thing Simon Cowell wasn't around. He was happier now, to be free, to have something to do, somewhere to go. _Much more interesting than that stuffy palace anyway. And that stupid Dahaka. I killed the Empress of Time! Stupid, stupid Dahaka! And I even let it eat the other me when I was the Sandwraith__…__ Garrrrr!_

Past more trees than he could remember he walked (not like he'd want to remember them all anyway. Duh.). Most travelers would have been lost by then. But he was an elvish prince – tall, proud, and brave – and knew the forest of Mirkwood better than most anyone in Middle-earth knew themselves. At least, that's what he kept telling himself. He knew it was true… he hoped it was true… he wished it were true….

He was probably around five miles from home, though it was difficult to tell because he was already lost, when he realized that he had forgotten to pack a very important item: food. _Dang it! I knew I'd forgotten something. I had it on my list and everything__…__ Oh well; I'll make do. I'm an elf, after all. I'll live off the wilds. _

So that's just what he tried to do. Key word: tried. Somehow all he'd learned in his high-school outdoor survival classes had eluded his memory. He kept looking up as if he expected food to drop on him from the sky or something. This proved to his benefit, however, since giant spiders kept dropping down on him, too. He had to kill around fifteen before they got a clue and left him alone. He never considered utilizing them for food. At last, he gave up in his search. He had put his iPod away some hours before; he was in too fell of a mood for music at that point. It had grown quite dark by then. Time to halt for the night. He selected a large, branchy oak, settled in the midst of a small clearing, for shelter.

Being somewhat out of shape since he hadn't really done much since accompanying the Fellowship on the quest to destroy the Ring, he had some difficulty in swinging himself from branch to branch in order to climb the tree. He kept whacking into other branches and falling on his rear; he was very glad that Gimli wasn't there to jeer at him. Finally, very battered and out of sorts, he made it into one of the higher tree-limbs and arranged himself for sleep, hanging his effects and weapons on nearby branches. He muttered darkly to himself. This "sleeping outdoors" was not all it was cracked up to be. He tried to allow sleep to offer itself. Predictably, it did not. It didn't even help to listen to Enya. It was very bad. If Enya, his customary last resort, wasn't working, something was very wrong. Aha! There it was. There was some evil lurking nearby, something his keen elven senses could detect. (Those Elves; they just _always _know, y'know?)

So Legolas silently crept down from the oak. When he got to the ground, he was about to employ his elvish stealthiness to explore the area silently when he remembered he had forgotten his weapons up in the tree. _Oh well. I have a knife on my— Wait. No, I don't. Blast. Whoa, did I just use a British profanity?? That's astoundingly uncharacteristic of me. _

He got a much bigger shock when he saw _it_. _It_ scared him so badly he shrieked and started sprinting away at top speed. Unfortunately, he tripped over a root and did a face-plant. While lying on the ground panting and cursing at the stupid root that had gotten in his way, he heard a loud whoosh overhead as of some large hawk swooping down upon its prey. Turning over, he saw _it _again, and being terrified out of his wits, he rolled up in a fetal position and lay there trembling like a frightened rabbit. (Just wondering how long I can get away with referring to this terrible thing with an italicized "it.") _It _swooped back again over the trees, emitting a chilling, drawn-out screech that echoed through the darkness of the woods. Legolas began to sob like a baby. _It _swooped down over the small clearing again and then whooshed away. After three hours, Legolas finally had the guts to peel himself apart and go over what he had seen. He had seen _it. _

No more sleep for him tonight. That was just creepy. He quickly scrambled up the tree (he only fell twice this time) and gathered his things. Within a few minutes, he was on his way again. Not really that smart to be wandering around in the deep, dark, fairy-tale material-like forest, but he wasn't really calculating his danger except inasmuch as it concerned _it_. _It _was still out there somewhere. And _it _was going to get him if he didn't make himself scarce. As he stumbled along through the eerily silent darkness, seized with a terrible sense of dread, he suddenly saw about ten sets of cliché, red glowing eyes peering out at him from the gloom. Legolas froze in his tracks. And turned around and began sprinting in the opposite direction. He hadn't gone far when he had a thought. He stopped because he couldn't really think while running (he couldn't rub his stomach and pat his head at the same time, either). Oddly enough, whatever was obligatorily pursuing him stopped, too. They couldn't attack him till he had finished his thought. So Legolas sat down on a log and had his thought. _Holy Eru! I'm being chased by red glowing eyes. Since when have I ever run from red glowing eyes?! Well, there was _that _time, but still__…_Legolas pulled out ten arrows and set them all on the string at once. "Okay, whatever you are, you can attack now."

Ten über-evil wolves with red glowing eyes immediately bounded out, howling and foaming at the mouth; I mean, these bad boys had four-inch fangs, fur on their spines sticking straight up, slobber drizzling from their snarling mouths, the works. They made the werewolves in _New Moon_ look like friendly puppies. Legolas got them all in one shot. At least they were easier than _it. _Whatever _it _was. Not that he had tried attacking _it_.

Legolas felt suddenly exhausted so he collapsed on the grass and promptly began snoring uncharacteristically loudly for an elf. Next morning, he woke up and saw that all the wolves' bodies were gone. There his arrows lay, unsullied, on the ground where each wolf had fallen. _Aha! Demonic wolves. I __never__ would have guessed in a million years. _Legolas gathered up all his arrows, turned on his iPod, and began humming away as he continued on his way to Minas Tirith. He had forgotten that he was now hopelessly lost.

To be continued...


	2. Chapter 2: Minas Tirith

A/N: I literally have no idea where this story is going, but I'm glad I feel no compulsion whatsoever to have it make sense. I'm not dissing any of the characters; I'm just havin' a little fun with 'em. So don't read if you can't stand OOC. Thanks, and enjoy!

Chapter II—Minas Tirith

About two weeks later, a disheveled, emaciated figure staggered out of the trees. His long flaxen hair was tangled and unkempt, his clothes ragged and dirty, his form slumped and weary. But Legolas Greenleaf had finally found his way out of the woods of Mirkwood. He sighed with relief and stood surveying the plains beyond for some time. Finally, he shouldered his hand-stitched bark bag of spider meat and set out once more.

Some days later, Legolas hitched a ride with a Gondorian errand rider (at arrow-point) and thus made it to Minas Tirith in, more or less, one piece. Though Aragorn insisted that he be shown into the citadel at once, Legolas had to pass inspection first (these inspectors were from the airport security department). Thus, he had to surrender all weapons, go through a metal detector, see a health examiner, and have his personal belongings inspected. Though he didn't pass (the inspectors mentioned something about illegal importation of unsanitary meats; their expressions were classic when a huge, hairy spider leg fell out of Legolas' food bag.), Aragorn ordered them to let him in anyway.

When Legolas saw Aragorn, he fainted dead away. Arwen revived him by dumping a bucket of ice water on his head. Legolas woke up, sputtering something about, "so old…so ugly…." Arwen slapped him, and then, sniffing him, wrinkled her nose. "You need a bath!" she said, disgusted.

"I've already had one, thanks to you, Mrs. Aragorn," retorted Legolas. "It's King Greasy Hair over there that really needs one."

Arwen glowered at him and stormed from the room.

Aragorn was much more cordial. "Greetings, my old friend. I have been anticipating seeing you all day." He gestured to a chair beside the throne.

"It's a chair," said Legolas blankly. Aragorn's aged appearance was shocking him to the core and scattering his wits.

"Yes, sit down," said Aragorn helpfully. "That's what chairs are for."

"Like I didn't know that…," Legolas murmured, moving to the chair and sitting. _Probably belonged to Denethor. Ewww__…__ Can't believe I'm doing this. _"So… Aragorn. I, erm, think I should explain why I'm here in this, uh, condition."

"I'd be delighted to hear it."

Legolas continued, eyeing Aragorn incredulously. _Is this really what mortals look like when they get old?! "_Okay, so, you know, I was getting a bit bored at home, decided to take a little vacation, y'know, to see my old pals. And on my way through Mirkwood, _it _swooped down. _It _is here."

"What is _it_?" questioned Aragorn, suddenly very interested.

"I cannot say," replied Legolas. Recalling brought an involuntary shudder. "Too horrible."

"Fair enough," said Aragorn, laughing.

_Jerk; it's not funny. You would have probably burrowed into the ground and never come out again if you'd seen _it_. _

"What did you do?" Aragorn figured if he could get Legolas to elaborate further, he'd eventually coax the identity of _it_ out of him.

"Well, I…" began Legolas, thinking. He remembered how he had reacted that night several weeks ago. "I, uh, I stood firm and raised my bow, trying to take aim. And then I yelled at _it_ to 'face me like a man!' But, the cowardly beast, _it_, um, was whooshing, just _whooshing_ across the sky at such a speed… Man, there was no hitting _it_. Eventually _it_ went away. Yeah."

Aragorn pondered thoughtfully what Legolas had said. Being rather gullible and none too smart, he believed every word. "So I can safely assume _it_ inhabits the area in and around Mirkwood, then. We've got our work cut out for us." He turned to a servant. "Kindly inform the livery and soldiery that a company of five-hundred of our best horse-men must be ready to leave tomorrow morning before the sun."

"Yeah," agreed Legolas, and added, "And if they question the command, tell them to shove off."

So Aragorn and Legolas (who had finally begun to warm up to the "new" Aragorn) had a lengthy chat about nothing in particular over their afternoon tea. A few things, however, Legolas gathered. One, Aragorn had almost been dethroned four years following his coronation after he had lowered the legal drinking age to twelve and gone shower-less for six weeks. (Arwen, of course, intervened, amending the new law and pursuing Aragorn around the citadel, wielding a bar of soap.) Other than that initial mishap, things had been going pretty well in Gondor.

Presently, as the evening drew on, Aragorn yawned and stood up. "Time for you to recuperate for tomorrow's ride," he said. "Chital will provide you with whatever you need. And I have already arranged for your room for the night. Rest well while we may!"

Legolas followed Chital, who was carrying all of Legolas' effects. They ascended a stuffy circular staircase that wound up and up for hundreds of steps. _The tower?!_ _Curse you, Aragorn! This is _not _funny! _Finally, they reached the top. Legolas collapsed dramatically on his dusty bed and didn't move until the next morning.

* * *

When Legolas finally awoke, he forgot where he was and, panicking, rolled off the bed and hit the floor. Hard. Growling unintelligibly, he sat up, back against the side of the bed, and looked around. Small, round room. _A round room?! What does he think I am? Insane?! _Legolas decided to overlook Aragorn's obvious, unpleasant implication. There was nothing in the room but a small table (upon which were all his personal items), a tiny, rectangular, glassless window, and, of course, the bed. Legolas grimaced at his sore, weary, grimy state and laboriously made it to his feet. He went to the window and peered out… then promptly shrieked and fell backwards. He couldn't stand great heights; looking out the window of a 200-foot high tower wasn't the best idea, obviously.

Legolas collected his weapons and what was left of his wits and went to wash up for the ride, since he had neglected to do so the night before. There was a small washtub up in another room of the tower, but no running water. _Gondorian planning for you. _Legolas grabbed a decorative shield off the stone wall and, sitting thereon, employed it as a lift down the stairs. He reached the bottom in record time, though rather rattled, and went for his bath. After having a very long one, in which he used up all the hot water in Gondor, and primping and preening to his heart's content, Legolas went to find Aragorn, who (he was told) was in the stables. He was.

"Good morning, Aragorn," greeted Legolas, as he came through the door.

"I trust you slept well," said Aragorn.

"Yes, very well, thank you," said Legolas sarcastically. "Except for the fact that I can't stand heights. You knew that, didn't you? And yet you roomed me in the Citadel tower!!"

Aragorn tried to appear apologetic, but he wasn't that good of an actor.

Legolas just sneered at his bad attempt and let the subject rest.

Aragorn motioned to a white horse in the next stall. "He is yours. His name is Astaldo and he is both swift and true…"

Legolas grimaced. _Is that what the seller told you, by chance?_

"…May he bear you to good fortune," Aragorn finished.

Legolas nodded at Aragorn's idealism and went to look upon the horse. Astaldo was a feeble, thin-limbed beast. _Now_ Legolas knew why Aragorn had been so generous – if Aragorn had tried to ride the horse, the pathetic thing would've died from the weight. Legolas patted the horse sympathetically and Astaldo nuzzled his hand lovingly (although anyone with half a brain could see that the horse was just looking for corn). It was obvious they would get along nicely if 1. The horse didn't die from exhaustion 2. Legolas brought plenty of treats. Legolas leapt onto the horse's back and urged him out the door, following Aragorn. The horse promptly collapsed. "Wow!" Legolas said with mock pride. "We almost made it out of the stables. That's a great start!"

On the lowest level of the city, the company waited, their horses stamping their hooves, impatient to leave. Aragorn and Legolas rode to the head of the column and stopped. Legolas had a carrot on a string dangling in front of Astaldo's nose. Whenever he wanted to stop, he'd just pull the carrot up out of the horse's vision.

Aragorn wheeled his horse round to face the soldiers. "Our quest," he said, "is to find and destroy this evil that has come upon our land. _It_ is supposed to be really, really bad and scary and all that stuff, I fear. We shall soon find out." Aragorn pulled his horse left and turned. "Forward!"

Legolas dropped the carrot back in front of Astaldo and the horse started plodding forward again. "Forward, forward, nyeah-nyeah-nyeah…," Legolas mimicked Aragorn sardonically.

Sixteen guards heaved the heavy gates to and the large company moved out. Once all were outside, they heard the huge cast-iron gates slam behind them with a resounding report. Loud cheers followed from within.

_To be continued..._


	3. Chapter 3: To the Borders of Mirkwood

**Chapter III—To the Borders of Mirkwood**

For several days the company rode, camping at night and riding during the day. Astaldo barely survived the grueling journey. Food was already running low because Aragorn hadn't involved Arwen in his excursion planning. Within five very long days, during which Legolas became hysterical for no apparent reason, they reached the borders of Mirkwood.

"Now," said Aragorn, turning to the worked-up elf. "Where exactly were you when you were attacked?"

"How should I know?" Legolas answered, glaring. "What do you think I am, a walking GPS?"

They continued to ride adjacent the tree-line, although Aragorn ordered the men to slow their horses to a walk. "We must try to remain unnoticed," he said.

Legolas laughed bitterly. "Good luck, bucko…"

The company rode on, past thousands of dark trees. Legolas glanced nervously into the woods, expecting something to jump out at any moment – or swoop down and grab him. Suddenly, his eyes caught movement up ahead. He turned to Aragorn. "Whoa. We got company."

Aragorn strained his eyes in vain. "Legolas," he said, "I don't have elf eyes. I can't see as far as you."

Legolas nodded. "Pity." He pulled out a pair of binoculars that he conveniently had on his person and scanned the landscape. When he spied the approaching figures, he jumped. _**Gimli?**__ Nooooooo__…_ "Uh, Aragorn?"

"Yes, Legolas?"

"There appear to be, uh, a small company of Orcs approaching. Yeah. Maybe we should pick them off at a distance, hmm?"

"Are you sure?" Aragorn asked, dubious.

"Have my eyes ever failed me before?"

"Well," Aragorn sighed, "we are a much larger group. Let's wait till I can see them plainly."

"Fine," Legolas scoffed. "Whatever. Of course _you_ would know best, you idiotic ingrate."

"What?" asked Aragorn pleasantly.

"Oh, nothing."

A few minutes later, Aragorn could see the figures. It appeared to be several small people with a few horses, and certainly not Orcs. The company continued riding, though there were many questioning glances at Legolas. Finally, the two parties could see each other plainly. The newcomers were Gimli and the three hobbits, Merry, Sam, and Pippin. They waved happily. Legolas waved so unenthusiastically it was debatable whether he was actually waving.

"Two months is far too long, laddie!" Gimli exulted.

"_So_ glad to see you," Legolas muttered, voice dripping with sarcastic venom.

"Tell you the truth, I was missing my pointy-eared friend quite a bit," said the Dwarf.

"I'll bet you were," mumbled the elf, glaring. _I'll bet you missed imposing your ugly dwarvish self upon my hospitality for six weeks, eating half the food in Mirkwood, camping out in my bedroom, annoying me all day with your loutish mannerisms! I'll bet you did. _

Aragorn was talking and laughing with Sam, Merry, and Pippin as if they weren't on a life-threatening quest and they weren't all about to die. _Pathetic. _The dwarf and hobbits mounted their horse and ponies and joined the company. Gimli, unfortunately, rode next to Legolas.

"I never did get used to horses," grumbled the Dwarf. "But the messenger said I was to _ride _swiftly to Mirkwood. What's all this about anyway?"

Legolas resisted the urge to land another sarcastic remark. After all, he didn't want to destroy the elaborate pretense he had spent six weeks maintaining – the pretense that he and Gimli were buddy-buddy. He wasn't sure _why _he wanted to maintain it; possibly because it would keep the Elves in good terms with the Dwarves, but who really cared anyway? Did he really need a reason? Maybe, he figured, it was all an elaborate game he played – his disingenuousness – something with which to entertain himself. The notion that Gimli was none the wiser that his supposed "best friend" truly hated his guts was somewhat thrilling to Legolas. The elf finally responded. "Oh, nothing really. Just had a run-in with _it_."

A concerned look crossed Gimli's face. "What's _it_?" he questioned, an edge of nervousness pervading his intonation.

"I don't know," said Legolas. "I can't tell you until the author decides what _it _is. Believe me, when I get the info, you'll be the first to know."

"But, didn't you see _it_?" persisted Gimli, frowning.

"Yes and no," replied Legolas. "I did see _it_, and therefore I should know, but I don't really because I am a character in a story and, in the end, I can only know as much as the author does."

"That makes sense," said the dwarf, looking ominously toward the dark tree line.

Eager to avoid further interaction with Gimli, Legolas took this opportunity to sidle up to Aragorn. Now he could feel free to return to his previous unexplained hysterical behavior. If ever Aragorn dared ask a question, Legolas responded with a biting remark. This made Legolas feel slightly better for some reason. However, Aragorn didn't seem to care that he was Legolas' verbal punching bag; it was mild compared with the tongue-lashing he usually received from Arwen.

At last, the dusk was creeping in. The horses were growing weary, but still the men pressed them on, because that is what one does to things that cannot vocally protest their abuse. A hill was seen up ahead. Clearly the first one they had seen all day.

"We will stop and rest the horses there," said Aragorn, pointing to the hill, an absurdly gleeful expression on his face.

"Brilliant!" exulted Legolas with mock enthusiasm. "Sure, we'll have the tactical advantage in anything _but _an aerial attack. And the best part is that the thing we're hunting is flying! Aragorn, your strategizing has never been better…"

"Oh, good," laughed Merry, Legolas' scorn having gone completely over his head. "Great idea, Aragorn. I needed my supper." They made it to the hill within another five minutes and the men dismounted and tended their horses, then built an enormous bonfire that all but heralded to every creature within four leagues that Aragorn and his idiotic entourage were out and about. After the men, dwarf, and hobbits had eaten all the remaining food, Aragorn sought out Legolas for a bit of sage counsel. The elf was brooding on the opposite side of the bonfire, sitting hunched on a log, glaring into the flames as if he thought his gaze could out-burn them.

Fully ignoring the fact that Legolas was in no mood to be disturbed, Aragorn cheerfully queried, "How much further do you think, Legolas?"

The elf didn't even regard Aragorn. "Something vile is near," he replied finally, his tone of voice chilling those who heard him. _And you think I mean _it_, but I really mean __**you**__. _

At first light, Legolas strode to the crest of the hill to survey the landscape on the other side, wondering why no one had thought to do that the previous night. What he saw left him speechless, but that didn't stop him from fairly shrieking with fright. Conveniently close to the base of the hill, charmingly situated amongst a grove of tall poplar trees, was a wicked and evil building – as big as a small fortress. It had been built of black cinder blocks and looked somewhat gothic, sporting eaves with steep acclivities, latticework window shutters, and tall black chimneys billowing **pink** smoke. Legolas knew it was wicked and evil because of the **pink** smoke. We all know that **pink** is the evilest color EVER. Legolas wondered why no one had noticed the construction of this evil building before, seeing as it was so close to the borders of Mirkwood and appeared to have been there for quite some time. Of course, appearances can be deceiving. He wondered what he should do.

_Okay. At the very least, they're encroaching on territory that legally belongs to the Wood Elves, and we could easily send them packing for that offense alone. And the __**pink**__ smoke… we can make a case about how they're contributing to global warming! And the general "evilness" of the world. _He wanted to figure out exactly what mischief they were really about, seeing as one doesn't cause **pink **smoke to billow from one's chimneys unless one is up to something wicked and evil. Therefore, he traversed sneakily and stealthily down the steep hillside, keeping hidden best he could behind the occasional tree or scraggly bush, until he was just behind the building. He noticed a small window nearby, so naturally, he carefully peered inside. He had to cover his mouth to keep from gasping. Without another second wasted, he turned and sprinted back up the hill from whence he'd come.

Uncharacteristically out of breath, he rushed to Aragorn, who was still snoozing peacefully with everyone else on the lee side of the hill. "Wake up! Wake up, you pathetic excuse!" Legolas screeched, shaking the sleeping former-ranger violently. Aragorn finally sputtered awake, reaching for his sword. Unfortunately, his sword was nowhere to be found, so he grabbed the nearest available object, which happened to be a ukulele (the night before, they had used it to accompany campfire ditties). Alas for the hapless instrument, after Aragorn, in his groggy state, attempted to thwack Legolas with it, the elf snatched it away and splintered it over Aragorn's head, producing a bizarre twanging noise that rang like a gong throughout the morning's otherwise stillness.

Subsequent to Aragorn regaining consciousness, Legolas did his best to convey what horrors he had seen. "Down the hill, on the other side, there's a building of some type—!" The men, dwarf, and hobbits immediately gasped and ran to have a look, but Legolas hissed at them and they reluctantly returned to hear the rest of what he had to say. Aragorn just sat, looking around dazedly. "As I was saying," Legolas continued, glowering, "the building appeared to accommodate a number of suspicious persons, based on its size, who certainly carried out suspiciously wicked and evil activities. Thinking thus, I crept closer to have a look inside. What I saw you will not believe." The men leaned closer, Gimli fingered his ax, and the hobbits began to quake. "I saw…" Legolas trailed off, enjoying overmuch his listeners' reactions. "I saw…"

Unexpectedly, Aragorn leapt abruptly to his feet with a crazed look in his eyes. Waving the broken half of the ukulele that included the headstock, bridge, and a tangle of strings, he began frenziedly shouting mystifying orders. "Very well, men! Left, right, left! Up you get!" The others watched in bewilderment as he clumsily crawled astride his picketed horse, facing backwards in the saddle, and then attempted to spur his heretofore-trusty mount onward with a swift kick. The horse reared up, snapped its rope, and sent Aragorn plummeting off to do an ignominious face-plant on the turf. Surprisingly, he was unhurt, and simply climbed back into the saddle, again backwards. This time, he addressed his men (apparently). "We cannot nest. We must call upon them now. Form clinkety-clanks. Archers above, swordsman below. Archers are to aim for the trees. The trees are taking over the forest. I will lead the swordsmen in an attack to storm their headquarters. Doubtless, many of you will fall. Do not give in. Bring forth the Aqua Net and spandex! We must drive this evil from our lands forever!"

Gimli, Merry, Pippin, Sam, and all the men turned from one to the other and spoke in hushed, respectful tones. It was clear Aragorn had lost his mind. They must be very supportive of him during this difficult time of his life. But this was hardly the time for their fearless leader to be mentally incapacitated. Everyone knew that a temporary replacement for Aragorn had to be selected. And naturally, the only qualified individual from Legolas' point of view seemed to be Legolas himself. He made his opinion known, and (wisely) no one dared to contradict him. Shortly thereafter, they all watched soberly as Aragorn galloped off into the trees, backwards astride his steed, still frenziedly waving his ridiculous weapon and shouting nonsensically about trees taking over the world.

Legolas immediately took charge, forming his small force into ranks. Then he turned to the dwarf and hobbits. While he certainly wouldn't have minded terribly if Gimli fell in battle, Legolas didn't want to seem apathetic about his "friends'" participation in said battle. Therefore, he quickly concocted an elaborate speech to give the impression that he was genuinely concerned about the possibility of them being injured or killed in the melee with the as of yet unnamed foe. "You have a choice whether to fight or to flee. I know the currently _mental_ Aragorn called you here, for whatever reason, but that doesn't obligate you to fight in the imminent skirmish. I do not blame you for turning back now… okaymaybealittle…" He smirked as he saw the indignation in their faces, as they assumed he thought they were poltroons who would flee from a battle.

There was no hesitation in their voices. "What do you take me for?" Gimli bellowed obnoxiously. "I, run and prove myself a coward in front of you – an elf? I, miss a good fight? What are we waiting for? Let's go!"

"We're coming, too!" said Merry, hopping up and down with a fool-hardly excitement.

Pippin also began hopping elatedly for some reason. "You'll have to send us home tied up in a sack to stop us!"

_That can be arranged._ Legolas rolled his eyes. _Okay, it doesn't get much stupider than recycling lines. Oy. I did NOT sign up for this. _"A-ha-ha-ha," Legolas laughed, completely mirthlessly, giving them the impression that he appreciated their stupid attempts at humor. "Hilarious. Now that that's settled, get in line. We have a horrifying adversary to face – the FOO FANGIRLS!"


	4. Chapter 4: The Foo Fangirls Go to Pot

**Chapter IV—The Foo Fangirls Go To Pot**

_A/N: This chapter is rated T for mild innuendo. It marks the end of the touching, tragic, meaningful journey of Legolas, and his courage in facing a fearsome **pink** foe. I hope no one is overly traumatized. _;)

The company chaotically armed itself, mounted up, and galloped over the hill with a great amount of superfluous shouting and waving of weapons. Legolas rode at the head of the column, fully planning to "disappear" once the ill-equipped, ragtag bunch had engaged the enemy. He wasn't about to face the piercing pink **evil** of the Foo Fangirls.

Gimli, Merry, and Pippin's distinctive grunts and shrieks were easily discerned amidst the other battle cries, and it was quite a comical thing, Legolas internally noted. This was going to be _good_. These green "soldiers" didn't have the faintest clue about what they would shortly encounter, and he couldn't wait to see their faces when the enemy showed itself. It was sure to be a rout. Not that the concept gladdened Legolas to any large degree, but he figured the Mirkwood Elves could come clean up the mess later. That's what they lived to do: cleanse the land of other races' filth.

Suddenly, the bright pink drawbridge shot open in a blast of swirling pink smoke, bridging the gap over the wide, pink sludge-filled mote.

The Foo Fangirls had seen them at once! Clad in masses of evil pink pompoms glued to evil pink tank tops, evil pink poufy tulle tutus, and sheets of flaking evil pink glitter, hair frightening explosions of evil, hot pink, frizzy curls, eyes glazed with evilly clouded pink contacts, skin tainted evilly pink, the Fangirls tittered something of a high-pitched battle cry and daintily tiptoed over the drawbridge. They were armed with pink plastic buckets brimming with potently carcinogenic pink glitter, nail files sharpened to deadly points, and were towing, with a striped pink jump rope, a large pink plastic teeter-totter converted to an intimidating glitter/pompom catapult. (They also had a sparkly pink pony with a purple mane. Its name was Muffin.)

Legolas quickly released an arrow and missed, cleanly. He tried another, and it hit their pink magnetic force field, vanishing in an impressive flash of pink lightning, wood splinters, and yellow feathers.

"Not fair!" Legolas whined. "How'd they get a force field? I want a force field!"

Gimli, Merry, and Pippin shrieked in terror, which was quite disturbing to hear, especially coming from Gimli.

Legolas lost yet another arrow in the pink force field. "Curses," he muttered. "They cheat. They totally cheat."

The lines had almost met when a shockwave in the color of pink and brown permeated towards the Gondorians. It knocked the first line of soldiers off their horses and threw them backwards. Legolas picked himself up, noting that the soldiers who had been dismounted were all crying hysterically. All of their clothing and armor had been dyed a hideous shade of pink. The horses were mad with terror; they had also been tainted pink.

Legolas, undeterred by the horrid shade of pink on and all around him, jumped astride Astaldo once more. "Come on, ya nag!" he pleaded, thumping the horse's hot pink sides with his hot pink boots. "Get me outta here." The "valiant steed" of Gondor merely gave a strange, constricted whinny and collapsed.

A few of the horsemen were able to remount, but most remained on their knees on the ground, wailing and looking down at their pink clothes and weapons.

"Fine!" said Legolas, having had enough of this nonsense. "Come at me, you Bearers of Foo! Come at me! I fear no Foo." He snatched up a pink sword from the ground and started waving it at the advancing lines.

The Foo Fangirls then released a volley of glitter and pompoms with their catapults. The soldiers quaked in absolute terror as they were coated in shiny glitter and pink pompoms.

"Oh. My. Gosh," said a voice. Legolas turned to see one of the Fangirls totally creeping on him.

"No, no, no," he yelped, eyes wide. "This is not happening. Not happening. Oh Valar, no. My cover is blown. NOOOOOOOOO!" Legolas turned and ran as fast as his legs could carry him away from the pink-blotched battlefield.

"You guys, come quick! It's like, totally, like Legolas! Hottie!" the fangirl shrilled, giving chase.

"Tubular!" screamed another, also taking up the pursuit. "He's, like, totally, mine! Let's, like, grab him, k?"

"Worst. Plan. Ever," said another, joining them. She was clearly the evilest of the three because when she talked, glitter shot out of her mouth. "We have to, like, hunt him down with the grodie Flying Pony of Doom. Like, quick, girls. We totally need Muffin." At this last spray of glitter, the other two stopped running.

"Like, okay, Glitzygirl!" they said in unison.

Meanwhile, Aragorn had finally come to his senses. Having mounted in the forward-facing position now, he rode forth from the trees to the battle. He felt very dramatic and epic as he did so. Then he saw the explosions of pink and the glitter and the pompoms and the pink soldiers cowering on the ground in fetal positions. He pulled his horse up short, eyes wide as doughnuts with sprinkles.

Finally, he drew his sword. "I'll save you, men! I won't let them emasculate you!" He charged into the fight, and was very shortly turned pink and covered in glitter and pompoms. Oh, the pathos of it all! Surely this would be a tale to be told again and again in the days following this great battle, how mighty Aragorn swung a sword in one hand and the headstock of a broken ukulele in the other, shouting manically over and over again that he was a man, as if to reassure himself of that fact. How, after about thirteen seconds of this, he plunged from the saddle and was tackled by the Foo Fangirls, who relieved him of his pink shirt and assaulted him in ways that do not bear repeating. How Legolas fled from the scene of the battle screaming, pursued by the selfsame _It_ from which he had fled some days before—a flying pink pony driven on and on by three persons of hideously pink aspect, who eventually caught him and also proceeded to assault him.

Eventually, of course, Thranduil and his army came and took out the rubbish, as it were, driving the Foo Fangirls and their ilk back to the fiery chasm from whence they'd come, but the damage had already been done. At the end of the day, when Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli, Pippin, Merry, and Sam were reunited, there was silence. Utter silence. They mounted their pink horses and rode back toward Gondor.

"So," said Gimi, finally, who had NOT been assaulted, and was therefore not quite as traumatized as the others were. "That was quite a brawl, wasn't it?"

The others leered at him murderously.

"I don't want to talk about it," said Legolas, eyes vacant.

"I'm done for," moaned Aragorn. "No one will ever take me seriously again."

"No one took you seriously _before_ this happened either," Legolas muttered.

Pippin and Sam cried softly on each other's shoulders.

"So, uh," said Gimli, still not taking a clue that no one was really in the mood to discuss the matter, "what's wrong with you all? It was bad, yes, but not THAT bad."

He received another set of murderous glares.

"Oh, it was THAT bad, Gimli," wailed Aragorn. "I don't feel like a man anymore. The glitter, the pink, the pompoms…" He broke down sobbing, head in hands.

"Arwen was pretty much running the kingdom single-handedly anyway," put in Legolas helpfully. "And you were no one's bastion of manliness, so don't even start."

He couldn't wait to get home and lock himself in his room forever. Served him right for wanting an adventure. He should've taken his dad up on that offer of a ninja escort. It was a hard lesson to learn, but learn it he had.

So there, you have it, kids. Don't ever, ever, ever leave home without an adequate squadron of ninjas. You will end up like poor, pitiful Legolas and Aragorn, mentally scarred, traumatized, and riding pink horses of shame all the way home.

THE END


End file.
